Coming Close
by EllieMJayx
Summary: It's not Camelot, but maybe it's contentment. And then it all comes flooding back. Re-incarnation of characters. Slight Mergana. Initially a one-shot but I may be tempted to write more.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. (Sucks really doesn't it? - I asked Father Christmas and everything!)_**

Over the years Merlin had found that he enjoyed the company of children more than that of adults. They were somewhat brighter, more forgiving and generally more accepting, particularly of new things. Of course childhood had changed a lot since the days of Arthur, one reason for this being the invention of 'childhood' itself; no longer were children treated as miniature adults, destined to conform to the expectations of society and follow in the parents footsteps. Now children had the chance to be just that; children and now with the education system they were free to dream big, to become anything they wanted. It was one of the few things that Merlin really loved about the modern world.

He'd fallen into the education system after the Second World War, training as a history teacher, it was like he'd been drawn to it, and after such devastation maybe the optimism of the next generation was what he needed.

He'd worked at many schools over the years, both primary and secondary, though he never stayed for more than ten years or so, any longer and his lack of aging would come into question, he'd learnt that you could only put it down to moisturizing for a certain length of time, so after several years he'd always move on and start afresh, in a different part of the country, usually with a new name. A whole new live.

He'd started at Red Dragon Primary in September, going under the name of Merlin Wood. He'd recently realized that in teaching nobody really noticed what your first name was. Sure he got some supposedly witty remarks from the odd teacher in the staff room, but to the kids he was simply 'Sir' or 'Mr. Wood'.

He still misses his life in Camelot but this is the closest he's been to happiness in a long time… Then he saw him. Perched at the table, hunched over a piece of paper, crayon in hand, concentrating hard. The ivory skin and raven hair and then, as the small boy lifted his head to acknowledge Merlin's presence, blue met blue and Merlin gazed into the eyes of the boy that had killed his best friend.

He didn't know what he was expecting, probably some form of frostiness, a glare perhaps; but the youngster simply gave a weak smile and went back to his drawing.

Merlin stared at him for several seconds, before finally grabbing hold of his senses. Even if this boy was Mordred reincarnated, it was highly unlikely that he'd remember his past. Merlin sighed, feeling slightly relieved but gaining the boy's attention in the process.

"Can I help you?" The boy said politely, he couldn't have been older than eight or so, but he spoke with the voice of someone much older.

Merlin swallowed, "I was just wondering why you're here? School finished half an hour ago." It was true, he'd ushered the last of his own class out of the door about twenty minutes ago, before making himself a coffee and gathering some of the kids books together ready for marking.

The young boy shrugged. "Mummy's running late. She probably had to stay later at work to do something."

Merlin nodded and slowly worked towards the boy, fingering the chair next to his before asking if he wouldn't mind the company.

The boy shook his head, and Merlin plonked himself down next to him, almost spilling his coffee in the process. His clumsiness hadn't improved over the centuries.

"I'm Mordred." The youngster said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Merlin hadn't even realized he was wearing glasses until now; he'd been too focused on the bright blue beneath them.

"Mr Wood." Merlin said politely, slowly processing the fact that after all this time the child still bore the same name, it was rather unsettling. But this Mordred was still different from the last, which may explain the teacher's next sentence. "But seeing as we're outside school hours now, I guess you can call me Merlin."

Mordred put down his pen, interest peaked. "Merlin? Like the wizard?"

Merlin felt the tips of his ears turn red. "Erm…yeah." He paused. "I guess my parents were unusually cruel."

Mordred smiled. "I think it's a cool name. My Mum used to read me all of those stories."

Merlin grinned, deciding he liked Mordred's Mother already.

"So what are you drawing?" Merlin asked, allowing himself to momentarily forget about the pile of marking he had yet to complete. Mordred smiled shyly and pushed the piece of A4 away from him, revealing a detailed pencil sketch of a castle. At first glance Merlin thought it might be Camelot, but under close inspection he found it much too square and ruin-like to compare to his former home; the sketch was still impressive though, especially for a boy of Mordred's age.

"It's incredible." Merlin commented, pausing for a few seconds before asking "What about people to go in the castle?"

Mordred sighed. "I can't draw people, or animals." He bit his lip, "I'd really like to be able to draw dragons, but they're too hard."

Merlin burst into a grin, a hint of excitement in his eyes, if there was one thing he'd had the chance to perfect over the centuries, it was drawing dragons. And maybe playing the piano, but that was for another time.

He reached over to the plain paper tray, leaning back on his chair and letting his long limbs do all the work; sometimes being rather gangly had its advantages.

"Watch this!" Merlin instructed, chuckling slightly at Mordred's awestruck expression as he started to outline the beast on the page.

Ten minutes later and Merlin finished adding the last of the details to his picture and held it up for Mordred to admire it in all its glory.

The young boy gasped, taking the paper from his gingerly, as if it were some great treasure of old. "Magnificent." He whispered, eyeing Merlin with both respect and maybe a slight hint of envy.

"You can keep it if you like," Merlin offered with a shrug of his shoulders, "Or maybe and exchange? Your castle for my dragon?"

The little boy nodded affirmatively and held out his hand; the older man shook it gently, biting back a giggle.

"Sorry I'm late Mordy, but once again your Grandfather proved that he really is a prat of the finest order." Merlin stood up rather abruptly, taking Mordred by surprise and yanking him to his feet, he recognized that voice all too well, he'd spent many years running from it, and many more craving it.

Morgana stopped dead as she entered the room, evidently not expecting for her Son to have company. Wait, her son? Mordred was Morgana's Son?

"Hey Mum." Mordred said, smiling brightly as he began to gather his bags together, folding Merlin's picture in half and sliding it into his backpack.

Merlin kept his gaze fixed on the young woman; he'd forgotten how beautiful she was. Her 21st Century clothes were a far cry from her dresses back in the days of Arthur and Camelot, but she was still stunning, wearing black skinny jeans, a white shirt, and a navy blazer, a simple gold chain thrown round her neck. Her glossy raven hair was tied back in a ponytail and she wore glasses, expensive looking ones, presumably designer; he figured she was still a woman of considerable wealth.

"Erm; hello." She said, her words interrupting his train of thought. She held out her hand, "I'm Morgana. "Mordred's Mum."

He shook it, smiling at how soft her skin was. "I'm er, Merlin… Wood. I teach here, I mean obviously, I'm not just some… I mean, uh… Hi."

Morgana giggled, her emerald eyes lighting up. "Merlin? Like the…"

"Yeah."

They smiled at each other in a slightly daft manner, Mordred glancing between them, noticing the faint rosy flush that had crept into their cheeks.

"Well uhm, thanks for looking after Mordred, work was just…"

"It's okay. He's a good kid."

"Yeah he is."

"Mum…" Mordred interrupted "We have dinner with Granddad tonight."

Morgana glanced at him and nodded, tearing her gaze away from the young and rather charming teacher. "Oh right, of course… erm here…" She said turning her attention back to the young man, handing him a small card. "If you ever need to get hold of me at work… You know, uh for Mordred."

"Oh of course, right, yeah." He smiled, and waved as Mother and Son slowly exited the room.

He only looked at the card once his gaze could follow them no more:

**Morgana Faye Penn**

**Dragon Publishing Inc.**

**Camelot House**

**London.**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Okay so this is the first of two little filler chapters, this one from Merlin's P.O.V, the next will be from either Morgana's or Mordred's I haven't decided yet. I know this was supposedly a one shot but all your lovely reviews coaxed me into writing some more, so now I don't how long this will go on for. :D_**

**_Disclaimer: I'm sorry I don't own Merlin, believe me I wish I did._**

2am and he still couldn't sleep. At one point in time, this had been the normality, him forcing himself to stay awake, intending to avoid the persistent memories of everything he'd done that crept into his head at night. But since he'd started teaching, since he'd started to feel again, sleep had become somewhat more obtainable; though seemingly not tonight.

He tossed onto his side, for what must have been the eightieth time that night, and slid Morgana's business card into the palm of his hand. His mind was filled with questions.

He'd always convinced himself that, should anyone from the days of Camelot be reborn into this world, he'd sense it, feel their presence and follow the sensation until he found them. But several hours earlier Morgana and Mordred, two people who he swore he would always be able to sense, stood in front of him, not as babies new to the world; but as a fully grown woman and a young boy, just as they were when he first met them all those centuries ago in the land of old. It confused him greatly, he was in the same school as the boy who killed his best friend, his reincarnation anyway, and yet he hadn't felt anything at all. Why? Was there a reason?

He groaned and re-read the card again, smiling slightly at the golden medieval looking font that graced the black background.

**Morgana Faye Penn**

**Dragon Publishing Inc.**

**Camelot House**

**London**

Her mobile number, office number and email address were written on the back; again in gold but in a simpler printed font.

After all these years how could it be that her name was still Morgana? How was his still Mordred? How was it that they were still linked to the name Pendragon and the world of Camelot? How had he never come across them before?

He sighed and placed the object back on his bedside table, then switched off his lamp, determined to get some sleep. He'd just got himself comfortable when a brilliant yet terrifying thought began to dance in his head.

What if Morgana and Mordred aren't the only ones reborn?


	3. Chapter 3

_**Second filler chapter, this time from Morgana's P.O.V. Hope you enjoy and R&R.**_

_**Still don't own Merlin. (Believe me it's painful for me to admit that.)**_

Morgana groaned and flopped down on the bed, her body exhausted after such a long and trying day. It was already past midnight and she'd only just got Mordred to bed, and in just six hours she'd have to get him up again, oh the joys.

She sighed and sat up, her hands in her hair as she tugged at the various grips and clips that kept her locks in a pretty updo. She counted them in her hand, to make sure that she hadn't missed any, then set them down on the dresser before making an effort to de-tangle the curls made by the hairspray, her hair refused to cooperate and she soon became tired and gave up, turning her attention to brushing her teeth and pulling on her pyjamas before crawling into bed.

She shut her eyes tightly, willing sleep to come so she could forget about the horrible family dispute that had erupted that night, it really wasn't fair of her Father to lecture Morgause on who she could and couldn't date, especially when he'd had the audacity to bring '_That Woman_' to the 'family dinner', ugh sometimes he really could be unreasonable.

She pushed the negative thoughts regarding her Father to the back of her head, and tried to concentrate on other matters, such as the mountain of paperwork left of her desk, or the fact that the lock on the bathroom door needed repairing, or the cute teacher she'd met earlier. Wait, what?

Her eyes snapped open, shocked at her own train of thought. Not appropriate; he's a teacher, at her Son's school. Definitely not appropriate, no matter how cute he was; how he stammered over his words as he spoke to her; how the tips of his ears turned red when she smiled at him; how he was slight but still showing off some sufficient muscles underneath that tight shirt. No, Morgana, stop it. She sighed and shut her eyes again, eventually allowing sleep to take her, praying that she wouldn't dream.


End file.
